


Will We Forever Only Be Pretending?

by historyziam



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, M/M, Pining, Sad, Self-Hatred, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 09:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20387554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historyziam/pseuds/historyziam
Summary: Dele and Eric grow too close. Eric gets a girlfriend. Dele is in shambles.





	Will We Forever Only Be Pretending?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I’m new to this pairing and the football world in general, so there may be inaccuracies with characters, places or other details. Also, this is a work of fiction that turned out angstier than expected...
> 
> Fic title is a lyric from Pretending, a song from the show Glee.

If Dele had known that his words about Eric would speak volumes about how he actually felt, he wouldn’t have said so much.

If Dele had known that the expressions on his face whenever Eric was around were obvious displays of fondness and love, he wouldn’t have shown so much.

If Dele had known that all their physical affection would be read as teetering between something friends would do and something so, so much more, he wouldn’t have touched so much.

But he didn’t know, and he’s paying the biggest price for it.  
  


***   
  


_ You and Eric... _

_ Too many rumours... _

_ Keep your distance from each other... _

Dele lets out a loud sigh. He’s been mulling over Poch’s words from the meeting earlier in the day, like he can’t quite grasp them. It’s clear, essentially; the higher-ups don’t appreciate the rumours that have been going around about him and Eric, and they want it to stop.

But he doesn’t understand-- _ staying away from Eric _ ? The concept sounds foreign, almost laughable to him. He’s spent almost all his time with the other man over the years, on and off the field. He doesn’t really know what not having him around feels like and he doesn’t want to.

“They’ve gone bonkers, we’re just mates,” Eric says with a laugh.

Yeah. They’re just mates. There’s nothing there.  _ Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. _

Dele says it enough times that he almost believes it himself.

***

Dele had never gelled so instantly with anyone the way that he did with Eric. They simply understood each other in a way that few people did, and it didn’t take long after Dele signed at Spurs before they became inseparable.

Despite that, the moment that Dele realised he had feelings for Eric wasn’t a groundbreaking one. There were no fireworks, no bright lights, no orchestra playing in the background... It was the first time Eric had tucked him into bed.

They had spent the day together at the arcade and Dele had felt cheeky, insisting that Eric played the role of his chauffeur, opening and closing the car door for him as a joke. Not only had Eric willingly obliged, he had kept it up even after they got back to Dele’s apartment.

“What are you doing?” Dele had inquired, confused when Eric followed him into his room later in the night.

“Been taking care of you all day, haven’t I, got to tuck you in too now,” Eric quipped matter-of-factly, a small smirk playing across his lips.

Dele laughed, the same funny sensation in his chest that he had felt multiple times around Eric lately, making its appearance again. “You are so good to me, aren’t you?”

Dele made himself comfortable on his bed, letting out a sigh of satisfaction as Eric draped the comforter over his body. A sudden and overwhelming feeling of longing enveloped him as he watched Eric’s gentle movements. It was as if he was seeing him through brand new eyes.

“There you go, sir,” Eric jested. “Anything else I can do?”

_ Stay with me _ , he wanted to say.

“No,” Dele replied instead, mentally cursing himself when his voice came out choked. He coughed, clearing his throat. “That will be all.”

Eric smiled. “Goodnight, Delboy.”

Dele knew right then and there that he would move mountains for the man in front of him, and that he was completely and utterly fucked. “Night, Diet.”

***

It’s hard to pretend.

Dele’s always gravitated towards Eric, no matter where they are. It’s become instinctual, at this point, whether it’s to share victories, have a laugh or just mess around a little during training. 

His movements become careful, calculated, physically having to hold himself back from approaching Eric whenever the media or fans are around. It makes him feel sick to his stomach, too self-conscious and wary under Poch’s and sometimes Kane’s watchful gaze.

It even starts to affect his performance on the pitch, and it gets worse from there.

***

Dele forgets.

It happens in a flash, the euphoric high in the moment after Eric scores a goal that he doesn’t think about what he’s doing before he jumps up and wraps his arms tightly around Eric. Eric’s body goes rigid beneath him, and he does something so unexpected yet significant enough to change everything-- he pushes Dele away.

His surprise at the action snaps him back to reality. He feels himself being pulled back and into the arms of one of his other teammates.

“No, mate,” Kane mutters into his neck, keeping a forced grin plastered on his face in the guise of celebrating. Dele gets out of his hold without much force, walking off as frustration takes over. He kicks against the ground and it helps to let off some steam, but all he wants to do is scream out loud. The game becomes a blur from then on.

Eric tries to get his attention from afar several times afterwards, but he pointedly looks anywhere else but at him, out of a combination of hurt and spite.

He wishes he didn’t forget.

***

It doesn’t take too long before the fans start to notice.

It would be impossible not to, given the drastic change in his and Eric’s interactions in the past few months. They used to be joined at the hip, but now the most public acknowledgment Dele receives from Eric is when he leaves a like on Dele’s Instagram posts.

(He still feels a tightening in his chest every time he receives a notification with Eric’s username. He keeps that to himself.)

He’s done all he can to avoid Eric in the past week, grateful that the team has had a bunch of public appearances and a little time off. They’re in the dressing room after another training session when Dele notices Eric staring at him out of the corner of his eye. Panic alarms blare in his head.  _ Don’t come over, don’t come over, don’t come over. _

Dele improvises, doing the first thing that pops into his mind to prevent Eric from approaching him-- he starts a livestream. It’s ridiculous, not to mention childish, but he doesn’t care.

A lot of time has passed since he’s done one, and the comments flow in immediately, the usual mixture of affectionate messages or random requests for shoutouts. The difference this time, though, is the sizeable appearance of comments about Eric. He sees them, all of them, and he knows the teammates he eventually features in the stream notice as well.

**Where’s Eric?**

**Did you and Eric fall out :(**

**We need deledier content!!**

“So, uh, what’s going on with you and Dier?” Winks asks moments after Dele ends the livestream.

“Nothing,” Dele answers without missing a beat.

Winks’ forehead scrunches. “He looks miserable, mate. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this torn up.”

A flash of guilt courses through Dele, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it comes.

“Yeah, well,” Dele utters. He leaves it at that. “Have to get to the gym.”

Dele spends most of his free time working out. It helps to drown out the noise in his head, the strange, intrusive thoughts that have manifested since that game, like  _ Eric doesn’t want to be your friend, Eric doesn’t even want to touch you anymore _ . It’s not Eric’s fault, Dele knows that, but the rejection weighs heavily in his heart, and he can’t help but feel bitter. Can’t help but feel like he’s giving Eric what he wants by staying away.

Most of all, he’s resentful towards himself. If he hadn’t opened his big fucking mouth, nor been so obvious with his affection, this separation wouldn’t have been necessary. It’s on him, all of this, and he’ll never forgive himself for it.

***

Dele desperately misses Eric.

He caves when Eric drops by his apartment with video games, popcorn and a sincere apology. The way Eric’s face lights up in happiness and relief when Dele lets him in, makes him wonder why he was angry for so long. He has to hold back tears when Eric leans in for a hug, and doesn’t let go until Dele does.

Dele loves him, but he doesn’t think he deserves him.

***

Dele first finds out about the girl on social media. The headlines and pictures are plastered everywhere, and he can’t stop scrolling.

**EXCLUSIVE: Tottenham Hotspur player Eric Dier spotted with mystery girl - See the pics!**

**Spurs midfielder Eric Dier cosies up with hot model in Berkeley St restaurant**

**Who is Vanessa Fields? Here’s everything we know about Eric Dier’s new girl!**

Dele forces himself to close the app he’s on, pressing the lock button on his phone so that the screen goes blank. He tosses it onto the bed and covers his face with his hands, the paparazzi shots already ingrained in his mind.

There were signs, of course-- Eric seeming distracted by something on his phone, smiling to himself when it buzzes, him missing several team dinners and other gatherings, him showing up to training one day with ruffled hair and a faint lipstick stain on his neck.

Dele noticed every little detail but didn’t think much of it, hadn’t recognised it as anything that serious.

He must’ve come across the same set of pictures about twenty times, but there’s one in particular that sticks out -- one with Eric’s arm around the girl, holding her close, his lips brushing against her hair -- it’s so intimate and everything Dele wants but can’t have and it hurts.  _ It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. _

Dele doesn’t get much sleep that night.

***

Dele visits Eric’s apartment to hang out again a few days later. They’re both spread out on the same long couch, eyes fixated on the screen, game controllers in hand. It’s so normal, comfortable and so  _ them _ . Dele’s missed this so much.

“Did you win?” Eric asks as the next screen appears, flashing the final results.

“Did I win? I don’t lose, mate, against you,” Dele jokes.

“Oh, so that’s how it is,” Eric’s eyes twinkle as he shoots the widest grin at Dele. He picks up the empty bowl off the table, heading to the kitchen to fill it with more popcorn.

Dele takes a breath. He’s wanted to ask about Vanessa since he got there-- as much as he’d rather not hear about her, he’s still disappointed that Eric hasn’t told him about her personally, especially since they tell each other everything. Many of his precious memories involve them laughing over or taking the piss out of a ridiculous rumour they’ve read in a tabloid.

(He feels awful about it, but part of him wishes this one was a rumour.)

He’s been mulling over the perfect time to bring it up, hours just for him to pluck up the courage to do it. He decides to just mention it. Like pulling off a plaster, he thinks. Quick and easy.

“So, uh, you’re seeing someone?” he says aloud, hoping he sounds casual enough.

“Jealous, Delboy?” Eric responds as he sits back down next to Dele. His earnest smile, along with the use of that infuriating nickname, makes Dele’s stomach swoop. “Yeah, we’ve only been on a few dates. Nothing too serious yet. Van’s great.”

_ Van. _

“Good for you, mate,” Dele gets out in spite of the fact that his heart feels like it’s being squeezed. “‘Bout time you found someone who can stand your ugly mug.”

“Dickhead,” Eric retorts, but there’s no real malice in this tone.

_ It’s fine _ , Dele tells himself. They’re best mates, and they still spend a lot of time together. No matter what, he has this memory to keep forever. Nobody can take this away from him.

***

Eric calls or texts when he’s lonely, at odd hours of the day. Dele knows he’s his second choice now, but he never waits too long before picking up or replying.

***

  
Dele’s frustrated for so many reasons, the top one being his continuous disappointing performances on the pitch. He’s in his head too much, negativity gnawing at him like a parasite.

Exhaustion has been a constant state for him, trying to get better in football, trying to act like he’s interested every time Eric gushes about Vanessa when he’s entirely heartbroken.

“Dele.”

Dele doesn’t know how long he’s spent in the gym, but it’s late enough that it’s empty save for him and Eric. Dele keeps his head down and makes a show of touching his earpods as a signal that he wants to be left alone, but the action goes ignored by Eric.

He places a gentle hand on Dele’s shoulder, and that simple touch makes electricity buzz through Dele’s body. He hates it, hates the effect Eric has on him, even after years. Dele flinches and steps away from him, his throat feeling heavy and raw.

“You alright?” Eric urges. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t,” Dele gets out. It already feels like he’s on the verge of a breakdown, and Eric’s soft voice that’s filled with genuine concern, serves as the tipping point. “I just-- I can’t do this.”

Eric’s expression is pained. “Do what?”

“Everything! Hiding, pretending, being shit on the pitch cause I’m thinking too fucking much!”

“Dele…”

“I’m in love with you,” Dele blurts.

It’s dead silent after Dele’s confession, the air heavy with uncertainty. Dele searches Eric’s face for emotion, anything he can perceive as good, but his expression only displays a mixture of discomfort, and worse, painfully worse-- sympathy. He’s finally admitted it and he can’t take it back, so he continues.

“I love you, I don’t even remember what it’s like not to. It’s all I know. I can’t deny my feelings anymore. I know you have Vanessa but I need-- I need you to know.”

Dele’s heart is beating wildly, and it feels like a lifetime passes before Eric replies. “Del, I-- we’re mates. You know I love you, but not in that way.”

Dele lets out a frenzied laugh. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it? It fucking hurts, yeah, being around you everyday, talking to you, touching you, but not in the way I want.”

“What are you saying? You want to stop being mates?”

_ No. Never. Never. _

“I need time,” Dele admits. “To figure this out. To get my shit together.”

Eric nods. “Okay. Okay, Del. Whatever you need.”

Dele turns around, pretends to busy himself with weights until he hears the door swing closed. He squeezes his eyes shut, letting out breaths in counts. It’s okay.  _ He’ll be okay. _

***

Eric keeps his distance from Dele, and not just in public anymore. He has to keep telling himself that it’s better this way. The pain lingers, but it helps.

***

If Dele had known that Eric wouldn’t feel the same way, he wouldn’t have loved so much.

But he didn’t know, and he’s still paying the biggest price for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and/or comments, I would love to know your thoughts :)


End file.
